


Monster

by samchandler1986



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samchandler1986/pseuds/samchandler1986
Summary: Sam gives Justine some advice on film-making.





	Monster

The film finishes, clicking round the home-cinema reel he has hastily wired up to the TV. Static snows on screen.

“So,” she says, “what do you think?”

“Yeah,” he says, arms folded, frowning. “It’s fine.”

Justine visibly deflates. “Fine?”

“Yeah. What? Fine is fine. It’s good.”

“But not _great_.”

“Isn’t that the point of going to film school? If you’re already great why would you need to go?” His scowl deepens, unable to see why she’s making such a big deal out of this. 

“You know, you can be a real dick about this stuff—”

“Yeah, I’m _getting_ that!” he snaps, as her chair scrapes back and she prepares to storm out of his apartment. No prizes for guessing where she inherited her temper. “Look,” he tries, raising his hands in surrender. It’s a new thing he’s trying out called being the adult. It doesn’t sit well on him, but what does? “I get that I’m a dick. I’m trying to not be a dick, but I’m not fucking psychic. What is it that you want?”

She eyeballs him, but stays put. “You really don’t know?”

“No.” He tries not to grit his teeth.

“I just want to know how to make it great. They know you’re my Dad, they know I’ve worked with you—”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t put too much stock—”

“Stop,” she huffs, “ _please_. Your movies are part of the course. Can you really not see why I need to impress them?”

“Alright, fine!” Shouting, why is he shouting? Be The Adult. “Look. I’m sure they’ll teach you my ideas are a pile of crap as soon as you start, but the way I see it, there are three kinds of films…” He counts them on his fingers. “Movies that are great art. They make you _feel_ something, maybe something you’ve never felt before. They don’t have to make sense but they move you, like a painting would. They have that visual appeal. Then there’s movies that tell great stories. They move you in a different way, teach you something, take you on a journey. At the end, you understand something you didn’t before.”

“And what’s the third type?”

He grins. “Movies that do both.”

She lets out a long breath, thinking hard. “And I don’t have a story.”

“Right! Your cinematography is good. But you’ve got to find a story that only you can tell. It’s like I always say—”  

“—Storytelling is key.” She smiles lopsidedly. “See, was that really so hard?”

“It got easier when you told me what it is you actually wanted.” There’s probably something else that he should say here but he’s damned if he knows what it is. “Have you… eaten?” he hazards, vaguely remembering this as something his mother used to say a lot when he was a teenager.

She gives him a strange look. “It’s ten pm. Yes, I’ve eaten. Haven’t you?”

_Shit_. Later then he thought. “Obviously not.”

“What were you even doing when I got here anyway?”

“What do you think? Story-boarding for next week.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Need a lift back?”

 “No, it’s fine.”

“Sure?”

“I can drive myself.”

He frowns. “You don’t have a car…”

“Borrowed Billy’s.”

His frown deepens. “Do I need to be worrying about this? This sounds like something I should be worrying about.”

 “No, you do not. It’s fine. And… thanks.”

“No problem.” 

She laughs, taking it as sarcasm. “Sure. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Uh-huh.”

He sees her out, into her car and off down the road. Shuffles inside, back to his bedroom. “All clear,” he says, to the seemingly empty space. There is no response.

He tries the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain to reveal Ruth in the bathtub with her book. It should be funny, but it isn’t. “Too fucking close, right?”

“ _Way_ too close,” she agrees. “What about my car?”

“She didn’t see it. I don’t think, anyway.”

Ruth chews her lip. “Think we got away with it?”

“Yeah,” he lies, having no idea. “She had things on her mind.”

“I heard… Three types of films, right?”

“You were listening?”

“You were loud.”

“Ah.” He looks uncomfortable. “So, do you want to get take-out or something—?”

“Stories only you can tell, huh?” she continues, snapping the book shut

“Look, I had to say something—” He stops. “So, what, you think you know me now?”

“No,” she says, disarming.

“Then what’s your point?”

“Monsters.”

He doesn’t like where this is going. “What about them?”

“That’s what your stories are about. Monsters. Monsters under the bed, monsters in the closet. Monsters that want to hurt people and the women who fight back against them. And…” She hesitates, but knows him well enough to take the risk. “And the men who turn into them.”

He shudders, in spite of himself. “Yeah. Maybe.” There’s a part of him that hopes she’ll add a reassurance, tell him that he’s not a monster, that he never will be. A bigger part that knows the truth and is glad of her silence on the matter.

“You want to talk about that?”

“No.” He sighs, in the face of that patient quiet. “Not right now.” He offers her his hand, as she struggles on stiff legs from an hour cramped in the tub. She gives it a strange look for a moment before taking it. “What?”

“Nothing! Just… unusually chivalrous.”

“I don’t know why I even try to be nice,” he sighs.

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh?”

She puts her arms around his neck, looking up at him, in all her earnestness. “Because sometimes when you’re nice to other people…” She gives him a kiss. “…they’re nice to you.”

“See, that’s not how I usually find—” She quiets him with another, deeper kiss, that carries them from bathroom to bed again.


End file.
